FROM
A BOX IN THE DARK
A
Ernesto Cornejo Bouroncle
he
left in a cloud
leaving
his hat
A
Clelia, his partner,
that
was bringing him his hat
leaving
his memory.
In the course of a single
run poem indeed inseparable from their wills, poems that form the background of
this book.
The unique talent of
Guillermo Delgado makes each page pass before us as life goes as time: while
passing, and bypassing.
Without a verse to another
will interrupt the flow of images, reflections and puzzles - from the stage
darkened William - we reveal the poetry again.
César Calvo.
Just reach
your arm,
hephaestus,
to forge
my words
on
heart
of men.
With only lasts
in you
one
of these verses,
to
death
I feel pleased
they have been rescued
with our loneliness.
And I swear
I have to have
force
a thousand men
to placate
his irony
and transform it into song.
Because
in this world
where nights and days
made
one
someone digs upon my grave
relentlessly.
Like a child
lost
at night
an infinite forest
my eyes
looking into your eyes.
And your eyes,
clear as the fog
of summer,
notified me that tomorrow
you'll be gone,
and how tender is the night
seal - kiss inert -
from that on your left.
One night as serious
like this
where the soul is instantly
cracking.
One night impossible
like this
in which I seek God
and is denied.
Twenty years
aged
in memory,
which images
spend.
Pages become colorless
where lie
joys and sorrows
generous hand
people
whose goodness resists
ingratitude
and time.
After the absence
love
returns
to overflow
their crystal
and
again
forever
is noon
in our hearts.
Moves the alamo
fearful
of his indiscretion
leaves
appeasing
quietly
perfidious
the kiss of lovers.
From
the last port
paw
daily
the same boat
solitary
in your water
dark.
The forest
endless
Tree sprouts
leaf sprouting.
Leaf
blank
springs silence
verses which sprout.
Among trees
tattooed
night after night
you wait
the stranger
without knowing
or where
you have come
the love.
You become like the dead
that collect their steps
and someone
newly
she cried
silent
on my shoes.
Every evening,
each day,
every night ...
here in my grave
i will be
everything
the air you breathe.
Dew numbing
this silence, the wind
rain let his breath
I atenazan blade.
Are you in it, you spend
endlessly hurricane.
At a given
faces
infinite
came the words.
The voice booms
now
in her abyss
to be imperceptible
to memories.
Altarpiece
I dreamed a light narrow, dark,
and finally
one flock of white monks
carried on their shoulders
the immense coffin
of premature burial,
too.
If you looked the faces
of these cenobites
hungry
Life, pale, remote
eyes buried;
or if only you looked
bitter the stars radiating
grim and smelly beard ...
A strange song
absorbs hours
passing, Sleep
the graveyard empty
filling the fold spiteful
of a God expected
by anyone.
I kneel in the shadows
and listen, on my lips, one
prayer so slight
as still return
Foam on the waves absent ...
Low Relief
The sea between us
And
after
worth it ages
and the routine
the rose and withered
your face in your hands
friends who were
the night
at night
unknowingly
port that fails
and our voices
windblown ...
(What lark, confused
in the trades,
returns to the crops
in search of
rest
and dreams of a crow hazing
and wakes
without eyes?)
The sea between us
and then
the sea
between ourselves
that continues ...
COUNTER
CHANT
For
you, Gabrielle,
this
Countersong
which
is the underside
of
love and life.
On
earth as
in the sky ...
and
in my heart forever.
PROLOGUE
In my teen years fast sports I was a football fan.
Attended, inevitable, to the south stands of the National Stadium, naturally
swells Alianza Lima.
I was going to see the doodles of my beloved heroes
then. Little did I know that later, over the years, make friends with the son
of William Delgado, that extraordinary back - Alliance Center, better known in
the field as "the lion of Jose Diaz" ("the brave and harmful /
that lion "). In those times have been in the memory, as sculpted in bronze,
the memorable duels between Guillermo Delgado and Alberto Terry, golden duo
reminds grass and will hardly flourish.
William Delgado - the son is also a maker of figures
like his father, only that the embroidering on the grass and this young poet's
Burila blank page. Well trained and informed, as few poets of the latest
promotions. He's always nervous and agitated between books. He is editor and
promoter. A great reader of the classics and the mandatory empeñoso literary
connoisseur and rigor metric. Cesar Calvo has already given the play of light
honor to his poetry with keen eye prefacing his book From the Dark Placo.
Now, William, agile and sudden, intimate and germinal
move us again with this new release poetic book that fuels my enthusiasm,
though a bit envious of her youth and breath, fruitful of his fantasy.
ARTURO CORCUERA.
"Our earthly fire, whatever their fury and
extension, has provided a limited area, but the lake of fire in Hell hath no
limits, no beaches, no funds. It is said that once the devil himself, asked
about a certain soldier, was obliged to confess that if a whole mountain were
thrown at the seething ocean would be consumed in an instant like a piece of
wax. This terrible fire will not afflict the souls of the damned only from
without, but that every soul will be a hell within him, consuming fire that
scorched in their own vital scepters. Oh, how terrible is the lot of those
wretched beings! The blood seethes and boils in their veins, they scorch the
brains in the skull, the heart in his chest burns them like an ember, your
intestines are a reddish mass of burning pulp, the tender eyes burning flare up
like balloons. "
James Joyce
"Portrait of the Artist"
For the life after all ...
Because life after all
is simply a coming and going;
one contracanto
of pain and hope.
PRE SONG
Today I have been reborn ...
Today I have
been reborn
from the ashes,
in which I fell
the indifference
of men
rang my tears;
and I again feel
the cold
solitude of these walls
between the breadcrumbs.
I find most beautiful way ...
I find most
beautiful way,
decent and
bearable
to express my
feelings
words.
Because my verse
springs
of the simple
word
from flower to
flower
from branch to
branch
from leaf to
leaf.
Ask wanted the moon ...
Ask wanted the
moon
of why
my silence
the ingenuous
laugh
of a later time
the arrival of
the night,
life varies,
infatuated,
between wanting
and no power.
Nostalgia has brought me ...
Nostalgia has
brought me
now that you're
death
stench
dust
oblivion
And I just
for you
silence
absence
nothing
Came a voice ...
Came a voice
raging
between stone,
and the man sank
his hand on the
ground
and full of
life.
Time, time, time ...
Time time time.
eternal Bliss
that of
primitive man
timeless and anguish.
SONG
I cling to your arms ...
I cling to your
arms
looking blinded
the chill of
death.
I inhale deeply
between your
breasts
and peacefully
I drop
on earth.
A storm is coming ...
A storm is
coming,
aqueous;
irrepressible
passion
in your body
gives full.
Lamo, rubbed,
aspire, smell,
the stench of a
body rocked
that Aphrodite
way.
I shake,
you contract,
you shiver,
I fold and
unfold it
while you
lengthen
in a thousand
ways.
Instant yours ...
Instant yours
where your soma
looms
attentive to the
onslaught
a thousand men
in my mind you
have.
Fierce claws
are now
the sweet hands
once through
your body
so dear.
Redeemed and
eaten
moan, screamed,
bufo, cry ...
So now comes the
storm
in your body
gives full.
When I see you shaking ...
Watching you
jerk
by an earthquake
endless
my eyes wander
a deep groan
numbs us.
There is a time to wait ...
There is a time
to wait
time to say
sorry.
There is a time
for love
a time for love
a time for silence.
There's a part
of you and me
leaving aside
the silence
who gave the
love
and forgot the
time.
Sometimes I wish ...
Sometimes I wish
lost in my
silence;
lock yourself in
a book
and read;
sculpt our souls
in a verse;
desecrate my
loneliness
(Beloved and
beautiful)
only a moment
and lived in it
reflected
forever.
Outcrops in my verb ...
Outcrops in my
verb
a song
celestial;
solitary
And he gets your
voice
your voice is
already pain;
oblivion
Stiff lie, lie
dead
the ancient
olive groves;
were
Green willow,
still here
in my eyes;
tears.
Your wife, I a
child
but more could
desire;
passion
Forgot remember
forget my love;
lament
In the leaves of the poplars ...
In the leaves of
the poplars
you have to get
the moans
A child
which is the
negation of God.
How to be a world ...
How to have a
world
between clouds,
beautiful and
profound
to love you,
surrender to
your touch
as you climb
and night
waiting
to worship.
Like having
again
lost youth,
rash, fever,
the joy of the
child,
the strength of
the man without injury,
without the cold
heart encircles the chest.
When you run away from me ...
When you run
away from me
seem to forget
without you ...
I will be nothing.
Like a candle ...
As a candle
dying in the
night
my love faded
slowly in silence,
gentle breeze, sad awakening
that is advertising,
hidden shadows of hope.
I have seen them love ...
I have seen pass
love
on the wings of
a seagull.
COUNTER
CHANT
Three nails ...
Three nails
Blood erupted in
anger
and wet earth.
An enraged
horrendous scream
heaven
and withered
olive.
Eleven sheep
returned to the fold;
one ... stayed
in man.
If yours with a look ...
If yours with a
look
I can be happy
do not take away
the joy
to live in it
forever.
There is a being that foam ...
There is a being
that foam
in the sea of
your body
and that I
expected.
Meat or dust
fire or ash
I rio.
The red rose in your mouth looks ...
The red rose in
your mouth looks
butterfly in
flight is on the run,
my tongue purple
petal takes
which wet glass
which grape bunch.
Angry clapper
slows your momentum
in my mouth that
lies an ardent lover,
fierce, paladin,
pegasus winged
size, shape,
called brilliant.
Fire your fire I
am now and,
the arrogant
sneer of your mouth,
I feel my body
shivers
For it is not me
who your lips touch
- Wither the
soul who kiss your lips -
no glass or
grape only gave you love.
All I ask ...
I ask only
lie to my heart
once more.
Tell her it's
late
someone is
waiting
you have to go
you'll come back
tomorrow.
I know he
means
why you're gone
...
though I know in
the bottom
they will not
return.
I'm getting to where you let me ...
I'm getting to
where you leave me
I'm starting
from where you're gone
crying, pain,
misery, neglect,
it does not
matter if you walk away from me.
Because what we have ...
Because what is
between you and
me ...
will always
repentance
after sin.
Love you ...
The love in you
is like a host,
tasteless and
inert.
Your love is a rose ...
Your love is a
rose
that morning by
morning
her laughter
fades
is overshadowing
his singing.
Sad fate
that of your
love and the rose
they lose their
charm.
Seeing me in the mirror ...
Seeing me in the
mirror
gradually
wither,
my soul is
suffering, my pain grows,
I can not forget
that you loved me.
Sometimes vague
between shadow
an uncertain
road
and I have fear,
I curl up in a
corner
for warmth
you deny me, and
so,
desperate and
lonely
back home
and my hope as
yesterday
is deserted.
Even when I have to pretend ...
Even when I have
to pretend
I am serene,
and everything
around you is blue,
everything is
light,
that nothing
worries me;
hide this
bitterness, this sadness,
the ominous
scent of a poison
nests in my
blood
announcing to
death.
I just hope ...
I just hope
that graceful
death.
suffer defeat
you have to give
for having taken
of your arms.
As unburied corpse ...
As unburied
corpse
My body resists
not to live
I pay heavy
price
for love:
easy smile, face
flattering,
soul weak,
perverse,
treacherous.
To bury my great
love
I'll give you
more than a funeral.
If I had known ...
If I had known
that your love
was
like sailors,
of those who
daily
change names
port their
ships.
There is a simple way ...
There is a
simple way,
labial
to say I love
you!
terrifies me.
And I lived thinking ...
And I lived
thinking
love is
beautiful
that there are
friends
that men were
good
you were the
pink
I once loved.
I wanted to stay…
I wanted to stay
in your eyes to
lifetime,
I wanted moan
in your arms
As always,
I wanted
melt my bones
with yours
and mock death;
would
would
any;
thousand times
would ...
more in your
silence
and tonight
I lost life
in your eyes.
SINGLE HOUSE
Sad your face,
your eyes opaque,
one lies empty
house
without us, they
of solitary
abode
leave today.
Confines of my
sadness is yours,
unfailing
accuser
This aching
heart of stone
loves you
and in whose
shadow heady
is a child who
sees you with joy today.
PASTORAL
SONG FOR YOU
If you die the
rose
with warm kisses
sow on your
lips.
If one day forget
missed that
kiss,
to give another
man
I did love mine.
Drown forever
insistent
desire,
to find you and
tell you
that love you.
SINGING LARK
Do not say
goodbye,
than a lark
with injured
wing
landed on my
shoulder
and slowly
slowly ...
I announced that
you were leaving.
SONG OF THE TRAMP
Take your
message to the wind.
he sails the
seas
a sailboat;
rises between
the peaks
desalting;
fertile fields
seeded.
It is the voice
of the time.
SONG OF THE LONE
Although only in
dreams you're mine,
and accurate
hand appeases
devouring fire
naked mud
that holds my
soul;
the concern that
provoke me
must be switched
off at the end
in a swinging
sound
of pleasure,
euphoria and tears.
But not my song
that reaches
your ears plaintive
which a poor
beggar
that to his den
drag
smelly body you
have.
It has to be the
winner song
captive bird to
wrap my hand,
bird, now free,
abandons forever
the body of his
master.
WALKER SINGING
Walking, walker,
Children were
growing.
Walking, walker,
life is aging.
As if tired to
oblivion
as if to attract
luck
walk slowly
life stride
rushing
slowing at times
death.
Steps to go,
sorrows come,
departing
laughter, tears left.
Walking, walker,
life goes
walking,
walking towards
death
death is
waiting.
SWAN SONG
When you're
alone
on the road
I can look in
the mirror
sink my lips
wet grass.
When you're
alone
on the road
I can trust the
wind
you were a swan
I sail in my
body.
When you're
alone
on the road
I can look in
the mirror
sink my lips
wet grass
entrust the wind
you were mine
you were a swan
I sail in my
body
to spread its
wings
Was lost ... in
time.
DIVINE SINGING
From a lyre fall
Hand of Dante,
ropes stirred
and said a name.
He lost his
notes
in a valley
infinity
and strings
vibrated
lit at night.
What did it say?
... I dunno.
What did they
say? ... Who knows.
Do not be
alarmed dear
do not worry
treasure
was perhaps a
star
was perhaps a
Mockingbird.
or just a sigh
God or a yawn.
SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE
Shut the
nightingale
its song of
dawn,
at the bottom of
the window
they'll drag
- My love -
my shadow love.
Their melodious
chirping
announced
my presence,
stealthy and
anxious
I'm in love
- My love -
prisoner in your
innocence.
Cascabel
feathered
that you go
hurrying,
retardes not
your flight
do not stop your
step
I have finally
arrived
- My love -
a beautiful
place.
SONG OF FLOWERS
You lily,
carnation,
pink,
lily,
orchid,
fuchsia,
sunflower
jasmine,
pollen, stamen,
color and calyx
enthroned the
most beautiful flower in my:
a realm of
colors
where humanity
absent
not sow your
pain
around you.
EPIPHANY
Trixus
Today I've said
I love you,
today I've said
I love you,
and today I
drowned in silence
a sigh of love.
Always, only
you, whatever you want.
Love Trilogy
lost in the
shadows
these four walls
where bare bum,
without knowing
where
I have received
your voice.
Countersong
Together we will
walk even
the unfinished
stretch
the thorny path
that aimlessly
comes and goes.
uncertain path
that looks
menacing
again
as if not enough
which together
comulguemos
before the child
chalice
that fell from
our hands.
Together with
the host bitter
that to receive
we hurry,
as vainly trying
the rush
appease
something
our fault.
Together, always
together,
the tree being
dragged
uniting our
lives
and today,
after the storm
without crying
plaguing our
souls,
condemns us to
eternal solitude
to live
together.
together we will
see
hide the sun
without hope.
together
remember
what we
forget.
Together like
two strangers
finally know
the aging face
Love to death.
Together always
together,
because we are
doomed
has always
to live and die
together.
It will be a silence ...
It will be a
silence
impenetrable
after my death,
for my wandering
soul
which jealous
cancerbera
protect my ashes
of luck
that you and
others can give.
I shall return
to my children as a blind man
in the wind
at sea
in the air
in the blood of
their own,
for you or
anyone
desecrate their
peace.
THE
ILL CONSCIENCES
To
Martha Isarra,
companion
of countless battles,
now
and forever,
with
a tender, sweet
and
painful goodbye.
"Strong
is the weight of conscience"
Cicerón,
De natura deorum, lib. III
Il sole
piange fra le fonglie morte.
Vestiti
di scuro
gli alberi,
triste becchini,
assistono
al funerale
del tramonto
autunnale.
Si sono
chiuse le porte
del
cielo.
C’é un velo
di nebbia
sui fiumi
Gli
altari della cittá
scintillamo
di lumi.
E i
portici, tra muro e muro,
malinconici
baldacchini,
s’inarcano
sull’umanitá
che accompagna
in processione
il féretro
della stagione.
“Funerale”
Giuseppe
Villaroel, da “Stelle Sugli abissi”
WORDS
OF CONSCIENCE
Guillermo Delgado
swells in the field of Peruvian poetry in the "Promotion of 80", but
his two previous works: From a box in the dark (1991) and Countersong (1993),
appear a decade later, as a necessary and urgent response to a very personal view
of issues as old as the appearance of man on earth, I mean love, death and
loneliness. And of course, this is not a first, as no one can be oblivious to
these parameters would appear to be the symptoms of the human context
representative vying for hope and a voice to conquer. Delgado is aware of this
finding staff, but their alternative not measured at the language level is less
dense in terms of content. In the books listed and bad conscience, denominator
pounding excellent: the presence of the human with all the nuances that can
come off and from the perspective of love and dream, so resorts to dialogue,
monologue and also makes the sea her confidant, her secret companion. But
undoubtedly behind each verse, beats, sometimes or more often, her sensitive
and acute painful humanity.
Delgado is one of our
most representative poets, it seems that his life is plunged into the void, in
exile and perhaps death. This latest collection of poems, which forms a
beautiful trilogy with the previous two, accentuates tremulous look of love,
forgetting press tension and hopelessness, tells of a game irreversible regrets
disappointment. The item rose for fragrance, beauty and subtlety is compared to
women, and vice versa, with the exception that it is not defoliated but
disappears from a reality that more preferred that the presence reverie. By the
way, not the "pink" elusive Martin Adam, is a rose that can even from
exile and melancholy, getting nailed in the soul, but its aroma is deadly.
There Delgado's
poems, immense value of sincerity, a sign of virility to the anguish
irreplaceable. Love and death, he was captivated. The loneliness and tears that
accompany it seemed forever, then at the bottom of the words also found a child
alone in silence. However, I think, finally, that his poetry that has saved the
barreara long improvisation, has to save the man in every sense of authentic
poet.
Sol de Ica, august 1998.
JESÚS CABEL.
THE
ILL CONSCIENCES
FIRST POEM
Seca was a rose in your jewel,
funeral flower that clouds at noon:
flavor that is lost in the orchard
no light of our love died already.
Dry rose stay in your lap,
withered flower that lies in the shadows:
which before was reborn in the twilight
dead in the glow shines no longer.
And now you are gone your charms
to die on the wings of oblivion,
is the rose that has been reborn.
In the faint melody of the saints,
leaving a trail in the lived
and inert on the way to flourish.
SECOND POEM
If they had not so
much
in the soul
could not say ...
THREE POEM
You know better than
I
there is a moment of
the night
that can not be
lying to love.
FOURTH POEM
To
Italo Porvi
I look at this fight
ending
dawn to sunset
I pursued, harsh and
bare.
My eyes lie in the
shadows
of death, as if
waiting
vacuum, without walls
or funds
to stop my fall.
My hands and my words
seem to reach me.
At time of writing
I have called these
verses,
but my voice has
settled
on me, as if a bad
omen
I announced that I'm
not.
FIFTH POEM
Now that I have had
your voice,
I find that my heart
was still,
and the picture that
your soul
was my face
reflected.
SIXTH POEM
In my heart for you,
did my love go
which two passions
they face.
In war and peace,
in life and death.
Zenith and nadir ...
two rivers as far
found.
SEVENTH POEM
Sometimes I'm in wind
you mob,
the Hortiga hostile
weed
the garden of your
dreams;
the lonely boat
sinking
in this raging sea of
woe
that is life.
And the word muted
of these verses, it
is God who wonder:
Why you were the sea
I wanted,
and I the boat in
that my love was going?
EIGHTH POEM
I sail impassable
roads
to reach that
to dance in the
shadows.
NINTH POEM
Because my life with
the sea
extends beyond the
foam
hugging my body.
I still, sailboat
wandering
looking for a place
on the beach
where to die.
TENTH POEM
Prisoner of my own
words
go through this world
to pick up my dead.
ELEVENTH POEM
Espinoza pink,
red and ingratiating.
Beware, poet,
in that pink
that being red
not the pink
you want.
TWELFTH POEM
To Charo Murriel
In how many talks
they talk about me.
From my
manhood,
My sudden flight
with pants halfway
up.
(Fleeing... hasted
mouse)
My first experience,
frustrated
by unexpected arrivo
Your caste sister.
In how many talks
will continue talking
about me,
My underwear
that changes colors
in laughter and
memories,
in mockery and
laughter.
While here,
my love immersed in
the past,
stupidly persists in
undermining
the fertile volcano
your fifteen years.
POEM THIRTEEN
Captive among white
sheets
you lie
endlessly single.
A sad shadow of your
look
I'm fading
as the hidden ghost
of verse writing.
No magic, no dreams,
no illusions,
without a star to
justify
the arrival of the
night,
I move between your
bed
abandoning you.
And when dawn alights
over my eyes,
I walk away cowardly
leaving captive
between white sheets
endlessly single.
FOURTEENTH POEM
All that radiates
youth
before my eyes
avejentados
I am presented with
beautiful
and sees me.
Tragic end which
awaits me
now that my youth
lies in the shadows.
Oh, Polack Polack,...!
collect your spoils
and leave your heart
alone
to keep crying
through your eyes ...
and do not tempt the
gods
once more.
FIFTEENTH POEM
If I had drunk
in your arms
the tenderness of
your fifteen years
it would be perched
the essence of my
dreams
as they land in the
roses
dew drops.
SIXTEENTH POEM
I left a rose ...
and when he departed,
forgot pose
in your face
the hands that
pulled;
and in your mouth,
lips
that desired.
POEM DECIMOSÉTIMO
Every time you speak
my lips away
and my be suffering
the loneliness of
these days.
I do not know how you
do
to beat in the soul
when alive a dream
when I think of a
child
when waking dream ...
what I live asleep.
EIGHTEENTH POEM
My life is a river
and spent
beside which death
flashes.
The star in my waters
Blinking yellow
sees me with disdain.
(With callous
indifference
my soul asks)
Shine the hoe
in a swinging
threatening,
and a dark spot
I see ...
and tired, and boring
of this river that
die not decided.
NINETEENTH POEM
Today just
there is nothing to
say.
No time.
Not a moment
allows us to
sadness
that pervades
everything ...
all-pervasive.
Children are
beautiful
but no time
for their games.
Life takes it all:
the illusions of the
soul
kids games
and to sadness
it is everywhere.
TWENTY POEM
Until now I wonder
how big was your
love;
what the source of
your kisses,
your touch, your
passion.
He who did not spare
the love
not have to redeem
death
since only knew
the extent of your
anger.
POEM TWENTY-FIRST
I'll be looking as
before
new roads.
You go looking like
now
our roads.
At each step of mine
establish my
forgetfulness.
At every step you
take
will rest my absence.
And every night sad,
as one in which
closed doors
Your house forever,
we reach a voice
- To tell us softly -
that are cursing my
life
curse your luck.
POEM TWENTY-SECOND
Seem to forget
or would like to
forget;
the aura of destiny
darkens, day by day,
my way;
like the river, which
in its long-Pilot,
leaves a muddy mud
like wine.
THE OTHER´S VOICES
BIRDS
Birds longer ply
the eternal solitude
this road.
Alas seeking
temporary
other winds
outside those fields
where they are.
(Winds coming in
angelinas wings,
angels wings come in
to be)
Weary of beating
avail these trails,
where love and hate
together our lives,
those wings battered
are starting to sea
...
forgetting about
their pain.
(Wings that are lost
in clouds whitish
passing birds that
continue to mourn)
FALL
When the leaves of
poplar
be abandoned to
autumn,
the ringing of a bell
you talk about me.
The laughter of a
child forgotten
this will fill you
and a thirst for
mother
moisten your lips
bitterly.
When you feel a few
steps
call your ears
hear the cries of the
child
you left me.
SYMPHONY DESAMOR
I love the white rose
because it is
beautiful as you,
and further,
the white silk on
your feet rests,
your absence, your
silence is everything.
If I have to suffer a
close distance,
your scorn, your
complaints, your reproaches:
nothing matters, I
fear no evil.
(Sweet symphony are
your ironies
in my sad nights)
Life do I want
if I have your love,
your laugh, your
offenses, your rapture,
(Your charms in which
joy), your warmth.
Perhaps it is better
to die, hasten the chance ...
close your eyes
and anxious wait for
your return.
CONFESSION NIGHT
For you must be
the expected female
submissive
ensuring your clothes
or embroidering your
lace.
The female prisoner
of a wrong body,
that on moonlit
nights,
is left to your touch
searching in darkness
your charms.
I stopped once ...
and it cost me your love.
THE DEAD
Retake it and lived
... Where?
No island, no sea, no
one bird even
that acompase our
flight. Hide
the Sun its fine
golden hair.
Flames of love, love
that does not respond.
If the sun blinded
and could not see
sad and lonely life,
where
our love has gone,
perhaps even.
open its rays back
into
this world of
shadows. Oh, ruddy
is the cry you,
astro, auscultas.
Oh! Sun darkened,
divine grace:
the dead walk alone
in the world,
walk alone as souls
unburied.
EPITAPH I
In vain you approach
me deadly
therefore, if life is
not met you,
least I can do it now
I'm already dead.
EPITAPH II
Foundlees
... bare the lone and level
sands
stretch for away.
SHELLEY
(Ozymandias)
Which are worth your
tears,
when the slab of the
tomb
let not tears.
FIRST SYMPHONY
I just wanted
your chest against
mine,
your lips on mine
tomorrow.
I longed only
the song of your
voice,
the flush of your
face
one morning.
I asked God only
to give me a moment,
you gave me the
encouragement
one morning.
And today only ...
I've said that I will
which I have
forgotten
the song of your
voice
be another,
be another, another
morning.
SECOND SYMPHONY
Mute the song, the
blue sky,
darkens in your eyes;
bird goes around
comes or returns ...
and, in each coming
and going,
my life is shaken
in that song
sky
or hope
that die back to your
eyes.
EVERY NIGHT A THIEF
Every night a thief
creeps into your bed
pick your sighs ...
and retrace your
steps
victorious.
A Poplar emerges
aggressive.
You hang on, what
deshojas with your lips.
A flower does rain
expected
and shakes impetuous
leaving
wrapped
between white sheets.
AUTUMN ROAD
In what part of the
road
were the joys,
White doves
flying in the fields,
those trips
intermittent
starry nights
with nested trees
incandescent lights.
Seems to have clouds
in which the time
not take root.
(Amores twilight
to fertilize at dawn.
secular love
that are lost in
time).
Oh! God, I've never
seen
but I've felt.
What divine force
has the will
to copulate in the
heart?
(Gray is sadness
that has the sea
when he kisses the
sand;
white foam
that at night
moon is serene).
And now we age
we realize
the joy that life
came
is the same sadness
that love was.
GENESIS
They
divide my garments among themselves and
on
my garments they cast lots.
(Psalm
22:19)
When the gray-bearded
farmer
finished last seed
sowing
on earth,
had already elapsed
the sixth day.
And it was in the
morning of the seventh
- That tired as I was
-
fell on the grass
staying mired
into a deep sleep.
Thousands of
centuries it flooded
shaking up her entire
being.
He saw his crop
scorch all,
become barren land,
darken the skies
where he had made
light,
free winds
spreading everywhere
incandescent fire
devouring his rest.
A terrifying fear
suddenly overwhelmed
him
- Yet sleepy -
tried in vain to undo
it.
But he realized that
all his power
not be enough
for a second
what had taken so
long.
To foresee the
inevitable,
the farmer took his
plow
and disappeared into
the shadows.
THE EMPTY HOUSE
The silence of
children
has made this small
house
a house so huge
any rich envy.
Crossing the rain
left behind the
streets
lonely.
Everything in this
house is quiet.
The books dead in
eternal sleep.
A boring fly with me,
feeling compassion
for the lonely.
Play with it, the
fear,
I hide under the
table
and haunts me.
After a few minutes,
seems as if realizing
I'm not good company.
Sure is hidden
between books
waiting for me to
die.
ROSAMAR
By starting early in
the morning
in your bed I planted
a rose.
It was a rose of
passion;
of those who
unwittingly Rosamar
take over the heart
of the skin on which
they alight.
Today we have spent
years
I returned for my
love,
and as a thief chased
by the pack, alone
and hurt,
I hid in your lap
to see the rose of
your pains.
Vainly the shadows
sought my hands,
as if a strange odor
replace its
fragrance.
(I set aside the
clamor
that brought me to
your side)
As I acknowledge
another flower that
has chosen
as I have loved you
with relish ...
I wept bitterly,
Rosamar.
But do not think that
you have been
the cause of this
pain is killing me.
This plaintive cry
choking me,
is the result of
having seen wither
the rose that I
loved.
Rosa pure and
embodied,
as equal to the first
in your bed I planted
from early morning
to.
Blazon of love and
passion,
are those that
unwittingly Rosamar
take over the heart
of the skin on which
they alight.
SELF
I have the face
of a sad man,
of a man who has
suffered,
of a man who has
cried
and lied.
I have the face
of a bad man,
of a man who has
beaten,
of a miserable man
that hurt.
I have the thousand
faces
life,
I have a thousand
faces
death;
and what I now always
I have received,
and now I get
I've always been.
I have the face
of men,
I have in the face
many names,
mirror of life
is our face,
mirror breaks
with death.
RETURN
1
You know my life
is an endless wave
He refuses to let the
sea.
Why do I have to
reach the shore
such as foam or as
fish
tired of swimming?
2
If here in the sea
always stars
will not,
and an endless night
where the moon
always.
Here everything is
quiet, peace and love.
The peace of the
lonely wanderer,
peace that only comes
loneliness.
3
(I already know the
land of men,
the sterile company
given)
4
I'm a fish,
I am the tide ebbs
and flows eternally,
the fish bites the
hook
a tired fisherman
I always return to
the sea.
5
I am a castaway
in the vast salt,
gull, moss,
cetacean, galleon,
coral.
When you see little
girl
my dead body under
the sun,
Been with him a campfire
and give me back the
sea.
SHORT CONFESSIONS TO GOD BACO
I
Today you've forgotten how good
the kiss you gave me yesterday,
it was you who asked
not the man who has left.
II
There are nights when I feel
I only am left,
then, you go away,
Will your love as wind?
III
The rose that I wanted
was neither white nor red was,
only a beautiful flower
what my love demanded.
IV
Thorns, blood, poisons,
mild pain which destroys me,
are my eager mouth
Roses that are in your breasts.
V
It took me just a snap
used to say yesterday,
to know that the important
not to love but to love.
VI
Here is my life is,
here I leave my love.
Pure love without injury
So I'll take the pain.
VII
Serena the blue air
the sad beauty and safe,
of a soft tulle dress
memory of your beauty.
VIII
The bird sings light
to know of your departure,
therefore knows that there is no way
of my soul heal the wound.
SUMMER BREEZES
IF I HAD BEEN CANTOR
If I had been a singer
would have given you a song,
but I've only been a poet
has caused you pain.
How wonderful it would have been
that I could sing,
But now your love is gone
who could reach!
Ungrateful has been love
perverse you and me,
Hell on the fate cruelly
fire that sowed heartbreak.
YOUR LOOK
Your look,
poignant and thoughtful,
lingers in my thoughts,
drives away my dreams,
increase my vigil.
BETWEEN THE SILENCE...
Between Silence
these walls
where confused
love and heartbreak
were your footsteps.
YOUR SHOULDERS ARDEN...
Your shoulders are burning
with lust as the zeal
pokes my torture.
A stealthy silence
frightens me,
and foliage of the poplars
brings to me,
innocent moans
that are God's slip.
VARIATIONS SINCE A LODGE IN DARKNESS
THERE IS A LARK...
There are a lark,
that confused in the
trade,
reaches the crops
in search of
well-deserved rest;
however, a crow
hazing
and drives away.
TODAY I RETURNED AS THE DEAD...
Today I become like
the dead
to pick my steps.
And I'm back again
to mourn in silence
on my shoes.
NIGHTS ARE SO SERIOUS LIKE THIS...
Some nights as
serious as this
it breaks my heart
in an instant.
Some nights as
serious as this
that denying God
how sad.
OFELIA
I get scared like a
child
lost in the night
an infinite forest,
when my gaze,
and brightness of
your eyes,
clear as the fog of
summer,
I announced that
tomorrow
you'll be gone ...
And how tender is the
night
- That seals the kiss
inert -
from that on your
left.
SONG FOR A TRAVELLER ETERNAL
To
Gabrielle
It did not want to be...
the eternal traveler
the one you missed
your childhood
irascible man
all censorship.
It did not want to be...
The one that hit your
games
the eternal silence
Withering the flowers
fierce ogre
of your short
stories.
It did not want to be...
shadow between us
the sea between land
shabby soul
who lives in a hurry
the old tree
the bird of passage
the lonely island.
But, son, my eyes
deaf
and my ears blind
were lost forever
in that eternal
traveler.
But still...
I love your white
hands
your big ears
your bad behavior
your funny drawings
your child's soul
your feigned sighs
your false pains
your white angels
your red devils
the warmth of your
body
when you lie asleep.
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